Resilience: Zoë Alleyne Washburne
by ladlebasking
Summary: A series of missing scenes focusing on Zoe, to correspond with my story "Chosen Family". Filling out Zoe's experiences between the battle at Mr. Universe's and the end of the BDM.
1. Chapter 1

No copyright infringement intended. This is just not-for-profit fun. Firefly and Serenity belongs to Mutant Enemy, 20th Century Fox Television, Universal pictures, etc. etc. etc.

 **Author's Note:** Thank you for reading and reviewing. This story is a companion piece to my other fic called "Chosen Family". In that one I focused on Kaylee's perspective on eventsto fill in the gap in the BDM between the battle in Mr. Universe's complex and the "fixing Serenity montage".A whole lot must've happened after the Operative's order to stand down to get to the point that everyone's injuries are healed and Serenity is ready for takeoff. This is my take on Zoe's experiences during the same time period. I didn't write as an omniscient narrator - so I tried to keep what we know about what other people are thinking/feeling to what they say or what Zoe can reasonably ascertain by observation.

I've chosen to write in a somewhat choppy style, to reflect what I think Zoe's frame of mind would be like. And while I haven't personally gone through losing a spouse, I've supported a close friend through that process. This story is sort-of one outlet for me to explore that experience.

I know Wash's death isn't a popular subject butI decided to write this as a way of dealing with the movie and the comics (both of which I was bothered by) as much as I could in my own imagination.

Cheers.

* * *

Translations:

Pò fǔ chén zhōu - Idiom "break the woks, sink the boats", meaning a no-retreat strategy

Shēng mǐ zhǔ chéng shú fàn - Idiom "the rice is cooked", meaning what's done is done

Tā mā de - f***ing

Nǐ búshì dōngxi - You're less than human

Qù xià dìyù - Go to hell

* * *

一 **Yī: Zoe, are you here?**

* * *

"You s'pose he got through. You think Mal got the word out?"

"He got through. I know he got through."

To say it out loud like that, she believed it. She had to. Clinging to this shred of hope. This tenuous rope; rising like a lifeline out of the waves of despair that nudged at her edges. The reason for all of this. The reason to justify all the loss. He _must_ get the signal through or else it had all been in vain. It was the only thing keeping her from succumbing to the oppressive weight of the ocean that wanted to drag her down. And she could let it. It would be so easy to just let go…

 _Do you really think any of us are gonna get through this?_

It was eerily quiet. An eye in the storm. Once the blast door had shut they could no longer hear what was going on outside. The elevator remained stubbornly silent. This wasn't over yet.

 _We're still here. How is that, gorrammit? This was supposed to be it. This was the last mission. The last stand. All in. Nothin' left to lose. Pò fǔ chén zhōu. Do the job, sir. Hold. Hold…_

Zoe passed her eyes over each of their sorry number. Numb as she was, she felt the sting of an officer's responsibility for those under her protection, the pang of tenderness for those she cared about, and the prick of guilt over forgetting them in a moment of selfish vengeance.

 _Zoe, git yer ass back on the line!_

She amended her previous thought - there _was_ still more to lose before the day was out. How much more could she endure today? They were perched on the knife's edge. They were out of ammo. The blast door could open any moment. The life was slowly bleeding out of Simon. Kaylee faded in and out of consciousness. She might likely never see Mal again. Surely not River. They could do nothing for her. They could do nothing for Wash…

She felt the tendrils of emptiness teasing at her heart, her lungs, the pit of her stomach – reaching, constricting, winding their way.

And then a tug on that tenuous rope.

The elevator and the captain's return.

"Sir?"

"It's done."

Relief.

Shēng mǐ zhǔ chéng shú fàn.

If they died now, at least they'd take the gorram Alliance down with them. If they died now, she wouldn't have to face the void.

"Report," he asked.

What could she say?

"River?"

They had lost enough people together that she didn't need to answer him. She steeled, as she had always done; hacked back the tendrils with one slash of a machete at the sound of the blast door opening and the inconceivable was revealed.

 _River…how in the verse? What happens now? Them Feds are right to be twitchy seein' as what remains on the floor. She did it for her brother, she did it for us all, she did what I wanted to do, tā mā de Reavers. Nǐ búshì dōngxi, qù xià dìyù._

 _Mal got through. River got through. We got through this. How'em I gonna get through this?_

 _Stand down. Stand down. Zoe, are you here?_

* * *

Translations:

Pò fǔ chén zhōu - Idiom "break the woks, sink the boats", meaning a no-retreat strategy

Shēng mǐ zhǔ chéng shú fàn - Idiom "the rice is cooked", meaning what's done is done

Tā mā de - f***ing

Nǐ búshì dōngxi - You're less than human

Qù xià dìyù - Go to hell


	2. Chapter 2

二 **Èr: Stand Down**

* * *

 _Stand down. Stand down. It's finished. We're finished._

Like a chorus line of dancers executing their choreography, the Feds' weapons lowered in an almost simultaneous domino effect, triggered by whoever was first to register the Operative's order – the improbable, maddening order to stand down at the culmination of their pursuit. Zoe picked up on the ever so slight hesitation, as if the dancers began a hair's breadth after their cue.

Now here they were in a supremely awkward face-off. Nobody seemed to know their next move. Alliance troops should be well-enough trained; conditioned to obey. Should be, Zoe figured. That is unless a'one of them couldn't stand it, got antsy, finger on the trigger, a new line of dominoes.

She closed her eyes briefly. Her adrenaline was starting to wear off, she could feel it. When she opened her eyes the scene appeared in slow motion. She watched a drop of blood leave the tip of the massive machete River was holding. Dust motes from the ripped open wall, floating in the bright light from outside. Mal wavering on his feet, his eyes bluer than she'd ever considered them before. Could be the red? To contrast the blue?

A sudden twinge of pain from the slash on her back snapped her out of it. She was going into shock - she knew the signs well-enough, she'd seen it in plenty of soldiers. The temporary field dressing Simon had applied was holding, though in the fighting that followed she had pushed it past the limits its' inventors had in mind. The pain was bearable but only just. There hadn't been time to dope her. But she was glad of the pain. It was something happening _now_ , something to focus on _now_. Her body wasn't the only thing in shock. No, now was not the time to think back, to replay again and again and again, to acknowledge what had happened, to absorb what had happened.

Zoe reeled herself back to the present moment. Only a few moments of silence, of stand-off, had passed. Simon, whose head had been raised to see his sister, slumped back to the floor with a stifled sound of distress. This small move was the catalyst that broke the spell. Things began to happen then.

"River," called Mal, his voice strained.

With a subtle movement of one hand, low and quiet-like, he motioned for her to come to them.

Zoe could not be sure, in the second that passed before River responded, whether the girl had gone feral; gone and become what the Alliance had intended her to be. She looked wild and ready to spring. Her weapons shifted ever so slightly as she tightened her grip…

And then she dropped them to the floor, and Zoe knew it was her. It was _their_ River. Not the River she'd started out life as, to be sure. But not the cold calculator the Academy had made her either. The girl and the weapon were one and the same, now the barrier that was between them had come down. She was _River._ She was acting under her own power. No one had triggered her this time but her own self. And, lucky for them, she was on their side.

Only River could step through dozens of fallen Reavers and make it look like a dance. She took the precise number of steps required to reach clear ground and no more; placing each foot with care, no superfluous moves. With the open corridor before her she ran the rest of the way, sinking down gracefully next to her brother. Mal and River's eyes met for an instant in which Zoe saw the flicker of a little something go across both their faces. Something like acknowledgement, something like mutual respect, something like being pleased to see the other after having been through a trial and out the other side. She recognized it because she'd shared that same flicker with Mal on countless occasions. If they all got out of this Simon was going to have a helluva time keeping River from joining the gang.

River gingerly touched her brother's face, brushed his hair back, a little more boldly tried to smooth out the crease in his brow with her thumb. He was losing the fight to keep his eyes open. River bent closer, whispering to him. Zoe couldn't hear her, but the sight of it pulled at her heart.

She did the only thing she had left in her to do at the moment.

"You got medics?" Zoe's voice rang with a force, clear and strong, down the corridor as she called to the line of troops.

It was not her favorite thing. Asking the Feds for help. Especially after all that had just gone down. But they were not in a position to be choosy about where help came from right about now. And she knew how the Feds ran their operations. There would be a medical team to follow the fighting. There would be state-of-the-art infirmaries onboard their ships. If their ships survived the Reaver fleet.

The Alliance soldiers relaxed their line, made an opening, someone ran back through the wall. To summon the medics, Zoe presumed, though a part of her remained wary and a bigger part didn't trust them at all. Still, she allowed herself to rest her head against the crate. She was losing steam.

"Mal, Simon's bag," Inara indicated its' location with her head, her hands being occupied atop Simon's keeping pressure on the bullet wound, "It got left when we fell back. River went out to get it. He needed to give something to Kaylee for the…there were darts…" She spoke quickly and with fear in her voice. Her usual calm, poised exterior cracked to show what was underneath.

Mal swayed on the spot – Zoe thought he might go down, Lord knows what all his injuries were he looked a mess – until he swayed far enough that his legs jumpstarted and carried him a few steps like machinery sputtering, running out of fuel. He knelt, not without difficulty, between Kaylee and Simon, using the crate to assist.

"Kaylee? Xiǎo mèi mei, can you hear me?" he stroked Kaylee's head, propping it up carefully. She was barely breathing. "What'd the Doc say?"

"Cal-something, Calofar?" Inara remembered.

"To stick her with," River looked up, confirming in her way that yes, it was Calofar, and that Mal could ignore anything in the bag that wasn't a needle, "And adrenaline for Simon."

Mal gave a nod, needle cap in his teeth, as he injected Kaylee with the first drug. He rummaged around in the bag for the next.

A flurry of activity on the Alliance side signaled the arrival of their medical staff and Zoe breathed a sigh of relief. They had stretchers with them, they had bags perhaps containing drugs Simon's bag did not, and they were coming as fast as they could, trying not to slip on the blood splattered floor.

Mal slumped down against the crate next to Zoe and let out his own sigh. There commenced a Significant Glance between the two of them in which Zoe felt an upwelling of trust and loyalty that went both ways. Also a shared acceptance regarding what they were about to accede to. They were humped. There wasn't much else they could do but see how this played out.

The Glance lasted until the medics arrived with an escort of armed soldiers. One of them asked about the Operative and Mal just pointed to the elevator. Knowing that the task at hand was done with and the Captain could take it from here, Zoe allowed herself to retreat to somewhere deeper down. She could feel it happening and she acquiesced.

From that distant place, she watched the medics divide and conquer the injured, herself included. She did not resist when someone helped her to stand and walk out of the building. She observed without feeling the sight of Serenity - speared, smoking and hurting. She heard without truly listening every request or directive – watch your step; lay down, face down please; I'm going to remove your vest, your shirt. Every answer to Mal's questions – this vessel isn't equipped, sir; we're transferring you to a cruiser in orbit; it's over, their surviving ships retreated, we're regrouping what's left of our fleet; I don't know, sir, I've been ordered to see to your injured, that's all I can tell you.

One moment she was feeling the stillness of Serenity finally come to a blessed halt, breathing hard, seeing the cockpit bathed in red light, hearing Wash's voice. And the next she was aware that somehow her back was properly treated and stitched, that someone lay her on her side in a recovery ward with Jayne and Kaylee, that Inara had come and gone, that Mal was alright. She closed her eyes, flirting with sleep.

She heard Mal's voice just at the brim of consciousness as she slipped over it's edge, "Serenity's bein' towed out right now, movin'er to the dock outside Mr. Universe's where we can work. If you're feelin' up to it, we'll go tomorrow, get started. They sent in a crew…to get Wash."

She gave in to the void. She had no energy left to beat back the curling tendrils growing into constricting vines around her heart and lungs, her ability to think, to feel. And she let them pull her under.


	3. Chapter 3

Translations:

pāo xià máo - to drop anchor

shén me de - and so on, and what not

jiǒng jìng – predicament, awkward situation

bèn zhuō – clumsy, awkward, stupid

xiǎo zi – boy, young fellow, chap

 _Bié_ shuō _le_ _,_ wǒ bù xiǎng ting - Stop talking, I don't want to listen.

Shíbā céng dìyù – Eighteen levels of Hell, at the bottom of hell

Yi ri san qui – (idiom) "One day, three Autumns", meaning greatly missing someone; one day feels as long as three years

* * *

三 **Sān: Yi ri san qui**

* * *

 _Airlock five, airlock five._

Zoe passed each door in ascending order, stopping at the one that had been cleared to receive Serenity's shuttle. River joined her, catching up from a pace or two behind. She'd been hanging back, catching up again, stopping randomly – purposefully playing with the two uniformed Feds that had been following them at a distance as they made their way through the cruiser's corridors.

No matter what River did, the Feds kept their distance the same - stopping if she stopped, poking their heads into the nearest door to exchange a quick word with the officers on duty there. They'd been trying to keep up the illusion that they just happened to be walking down the same corridor on their rounds. Not, as Zoe knew, that they had been ordered to keep an eye on herself and River, to make sure they went to airlock five and nowhere else.

Though Zoe and the rest of them had been given free reign to and from certain destinations – the recovery ward, their overnight lodgings, the crew mess – their movements were not exactly free. They didn't have official escorts but someone was monitoring them, more or less discreetly, at all times. And the someone always had backup. And the someones were armed. Zoe had noticed, since she'd had charge of River most of the day, that those someones made more of an effort to be discreet around the girl.

Of course, River was well aware of it – hence her using them for her own amusement. It was as though they didn't want to encroach, didn't want to disturb her. Gossip was likely going 'round about what she'd done down there, who she was. Although, "dangerous fugitive" was the extent of common knowledge regarding River Tam. Zoe had read the warrant. It's writers did not care to expound upon what the "dangers" were and why.

River turned her back to the wall and stood poised with a docile expression, the very picture of a well-mannered, core-bred young lady. If you ignored the combat boots and the scabs marring her skin here and there. After a few moments the Feds passed by, staring straight ahead. Zoe imagined the subroutines running behind River's eyes – calculating just for fun how, if she'd wanted to, she could disarm the first one, take them both out… Or maybe that was just Zoe's own thinking. Not that she'd actually act on it. It was a sort of mind game, something she did out of habit.

River turned and looked at Zoe, inclining her head at the airlock control booth. Two more Feds. Their "escorts" had handed them off to the next set. So River was playing the game too.

Zoe chose a position with the tactical advantage of being able to monitor both the Feds in the airlock and River at the same time. Arms crossed, leaning her shoulder against the wall, Zoe watched River sink down to the floor and start to fiddle with the buckles on her boots, adjusting them each in turn with a deliberate, repetitive series of movements. Just your more intense version of a regular old, bored teenager. Now they had only to wait until the shuttle arrived.

This would be her first time back to Serenity. Everyone had gone down early that morning except for Simon, who at that point hadn't awoken, and River, who refused to leave his side. It was therefore necessary for someone to stay behind to look after River and Zoe'd volunteered. The more logical choice may have been Inara, but Mal agreed without batting an eye.

She knew she was just delaying the inevitable. One more day away wouldn't change anything. She'd have to go down and face it. Face Serenity, the home they had shared, wounded and in chaos. Face their bunk, now hers alone once again. Face the 'verse that continued about its business without any notice of you or your troubles. Face life without Wash.

She knew it and yet spending the day with River and Simon had somehow turned out to be exactly the right thing. This wasn't denial, she told herself. This was just a time out. Quiet, calm, waiting. And it gave her a job to do; someone else's lives to think about. Nobody wanted River and Simon left alone on this ship. Her presence made it a little less likely that the Tams would be spirited away as soon as Serenity's crew wasn't looking. Whatever the Operative's influence, whatever assurances they'd received…

River had hardly spoken all day. Zoe hadn't been able to persuade her to move, not even to eat. She just sat with her brother waiting for him to come to. When he did at last, River finally agreed to eat something - but only if Simon would, and only the same food he had been given. She matched him bite for bite. As the day wore on Zoe found it hard to tell which of them was taking care of the other. She felt a tug on her heartstrings once again.

 _So that's what that means._

She felt as though her being was literally tied to them with a gossamer thread. One for River, one for Simon.

 _Poor kids._

One for Mal. One for Kaylee, one for Inara. Hell, even Jayne. Each one pulling in its own way, collectively acting as an anchor.

The hum of an engine drawing nearer made both Zoe and River look up.

"Pāo xià máo," River sounded miles away, going back to her boots.

Now Zoe turned a mite flinty. Maybe River wasn't prying intentionally. Maybe folks' thoughts just flowed right through her. Maybe she was simply commenting on the shuttle's arrival. Nautical terms were commonplace in the present-day shipping trade, though she hadn't often heard of a spaceship dropping anchor. It felt like just enough of an intrusion to make Zoe pull herself back a bit.

Soon the airlock opened and Kaylee emerged.

"Hey, you two," Kaylee smiled tentatively as she made eye contact with Zoe.

Zoe's stony expression eased a little. She knew why little Kaylee had turned up, "The Captain's with Simon."

River rose from the floor with fluid grace, pointing down the corridor helpfully. She was holding back a smile, as though she had a secret and could hardly keep from spilling it. She clasped her hands behind her back and pivoted back and forth a little, causing her skirt to swing.

Kaylee looked at River with suspicion and Zoe could see a faint blush color her cheeks. She gestured back at the shuttle with her thumb, "Inara's inside. I'll be right back."

"There's no rush," Zoe said knowingly, "C'mon sweetie." She ushered a compliant River through the airlock.

Not long after, Mal showed up.

He was moving slowly and very mindfully. Zoe had seen him injured many a time. This time was one of the worst.

"How'd it go?" he asked her, after taking stock of everybody. River was in the cockpit with Inara. They could hear the companion's silken voice, in the middle of an explanation of the shuttle's ignition sequence.

"Nothing too stormy, if that's what you mean," she looked River's way. There had been no outbursts, nothing worthy of the interference of their minders. "'Course we're being watched. Armed guards and shén me de. But that's to be expected."

Mal nodded and regarded her intently for a few moments. That had been the longest utterance she'd produced since leaving Mr. Universe's. It had taxed her. Being watched by him was taxing her. She looked away, grateful that he hadn't asked the question she was dreading, "how are you?"

He knew better than to ask her that, thank the 'verse.

Zoe mustered up a little more, "'Spose it's all right leavin' Simon untended?"

"I figure they'd sooner take the both of 'em in together than just the boy by himself. He'll be safe enough for now. Point of interest…Their warrants ain't on the Cortex."

Zoe raised her eyebrows.

"I _know_ ," Mal said, his volume just above a whisper, "Wonder who'll be sent after 'em next time, now there's no above-board bounty. 'Course on paper Alliance won't have sent anyone. Won't want to get their hands dirty. They've got enough cleanin' up to do. But give'em a few weeks, a few months…This whole jiǒng jìng has an odor to it. S'time we were all back on the same boat. Simon'll be along."

Zoe gave a nod. 'Jiǒng jìng' was putting it lightly.

"Zoe…" Mal started.

She had a pretty good inkling of what was coming next. She shut her eyes and listened.

"…They took Wash off the ship. When you get down there, they're gonna ask you…"

 _They're gonna ask me what I want done with him. They're gonna ask me if I want to see him._

"I know, sir."

He stayed with her in silence for a minute. She couldn't bring herself to say anything else.

"If you want me to...If you need anything, I'm here…" Mal said carefully, "You'd tell me…? Zoe…?"

She forced herself to look at him. Forced her expression to show him that she knew he would always be there for her. Just for a moment, to put him at his ease.

"I'm fine, Cap'n."

It was a bold-faced lie and she knew it. He probably knew it too, but Mal wisely took it as his cue to back off, retreating to the cockpit to bug the girls while they waited for Kaylee.

Today had been all about waiting. And that was fine by Zoe. As much as she loathed spending time surrounded by purple-bellies, she was in no hurry. No, this wasn't denial, she reiterated to herself. A person needed time to let things soak in little by little.

Kaylee returned with a lightness about her. Must be she was finally getting somewhere with the doctor. The rays of cheerfulness that Zoe was accustomed to seeing beam out of the young mechanic had been squelched by the shadow of their circumstances for some time now. It was nice to see, but Zoe was too busy soaking up other things to soak up any of Kaylee's rays. She watched absently from her place in the shadow.

"So, how's Mr. Top Three Percent? Didn' do anything too bèn zhuō, now did he?" Mal said over his shoulder, shooing River out of the seat next to Inara.

Kaylee rolled her eyes, shepherding River into a jump seat.

"You leave her be," Inara said, starting up the shuttle.

But Mal kept it right up, "You say the word and I'll knock some more sense into that xiǎo zi. I do believe it's my turn."

" _Bié_ shuō _le_ _,_ wǒ bù xiǎng ting!" Kaylee leaned forward in her seat and called to the cockpit, "He told me you threatened to space him once or twice. And you two gotta stop with the hittin' each other!"

"You tell _him_ that too?"

"No," Kaylee slumped back and crossed her arms. But they were both smirking in fun when Mal turned around to give her the evil eye.

Like Kaylee's rays of light, so the Captain's teasing was good to see. But when normally their banter would have made her chuckle, it swirled around Zoe like a warm breeze, hardly stirring her at all.

What was stirring her now was the restricting shoulder straps of her jump seat. Sitting like this was not helpful to her stiches. She winced in pain, "Shíbā céng dìyù _."_

Mal and Kaylee wiped their faces clean of any smiles like two kids caught in the act. Mal turned back to the cockpit for their approach. Kaylee looked down at her hands. Zoe exhaled, annoyed. She hadn't meant to kill all conversation, but it seemed they took it as such. So be it, the silence suited Zoe just as well.

The little moon grew larger and larger, filling the shuttle's front windshield. There was still plenty of daylight on the surface, gorramit. Still plenty left to this interminable, endless day. If only it were time to sleep. She knew they had smoothers in stock. If only she'd stayed aboard with Simon, given her stiches another day to mend. Zoe felt the weight of what the rest of the day had in store, pulling her down. Mounting, mounting increasingly the closer they got to the ground.

River spoke for the first time since they'd left the airlock, "Yi ri san qui…"

Zoe raised her eyes to find River looking straight at her, straight into her. Somehow, this time, it didn't feel like an intrusion whatsoever. It just felt like a little of the weight had lifted. Like someone was there, pulling back the other way.

"Pāo xià máo," Zoe answered as the shuttle tucked gently into Serenity's side.

* * *

Translations:

pāo xià máo - to drop anchor

shén me de - and so on, and what not

jiǒng jìng – predicament, awkward situation

bèn zhuō – clumsy, awkward, stupid

xiǎo zi – boy, young fellow, chap

Bié shuō le, wǒ bù xiǎng ting - Stop talking, I don't want to listen.

Shíbā céng dìyù _–_ Eighteen levels of Hell, at the bottom of hell

Yi ri san qui – (idiom) "One day, three Autumns", meaning greatly missing someone; one day feels as long as three years


	4. Chapter 4

四 **Sì:** **Gū zhǎng nán míng**

* * *

Translations:

Bùkěsīyì – inconceivable

Bù zháo – no need

Wēn róu – gentle/tender

Wēn hòu – gentle/good-natured, warm

Mèi mei – little sister

Liáng hǎo – good, fine

Zá qī zá bā – a bit of everything

Gū zhǎng nán míng – (idiom) "It's hard to clap with only one hand" - It's difficult to achieve anything without support.

* * *

Zoe gazed out at the moon's dry, desert valley. The early morning light that had made it glow in warm hues of pink and orange was transitioning now. Brighter, starker. It was barren but beautiful. Sculpted by time, hardly touched by people at all. It hadn't been terraformed or meddled much with. Just a little moon, going on about its' existence long before and long after any of them.

Zoe'd found the vista after walking a while by herself and the idea to make a memorial took root, seeded by the moon's plentiful rock formations. It hadn't taken much convincing for Mal to spare Zoe, Jayne, and Inara for as long as it took to move some rocks and carve them down. In fact, all she'd said to him was _I found a place._

A little attention from Kaylee and the Mule was serviceable. A little scrounging about and enough things like mallets and metal bits that could pass for chisels turned up. Add to that a little grumbling from Jayne, a little artistic direction from Inara, and a little elbow grease and you had yourself some headstones. Zoe didn't think of it as therapeutic, or cathartic, or what have you. She hadn't purged any tears, or any screams of anger. But something in her had felt just a little satisfaction in hitting things until her arms hurt.

In her peripheral vision, she caught the movements of Jayne loading things onto the Mule and Inara placing the last few rocks around the base of one of their creations. Zoe slapped the dust off of her sleeves, making a cloud that quickly dissipated in the wind, and rejoined the others. Back at the ship they went their separate ways. Back to their respective responsibilities on the long list of what it would take to get Serenity back in the sky.

There was something Zoe wanted to do. Mal or Jayne or someone else could have done it. But again, she hardly had to use any words at all and Mal had understood. No one had touched it 'cept the Feds so far – she wanted to clean up the bridge.

She gathered up what she thought the job would call for. The harpoons were out. Feds had seen to that. But there would be glass. There would be a need for soap and water.

Zoe filled a bucket, watched the soap bubbles form, watched the cloth sink itself. She fetched a towel, the broom, the dustpan, an empty box for the glass. She did these things on autopilot, finding herself standing at the bottom of the stairs to the bridge.

There was no sense avoiding it. If the plan was to stay on Serenity – and she couldn't see it any other way – she'd be going up there. She went up there all the time.

The Sun beamed down.

 _Red emergency lighting..._

Fresh air wafted into her nostrils.

 _Still, stagnant air, thick with the smell of burnt wiring..._

She went ahead on up, her boots crunching on shattered glass, and was overcome by a sudden wave of nausea. She doubled over, set down the bucket. It was just the dry heaves, nothing to come up. She hadn't had anything for breakfast. This had happened before. This morning when she'd awoken, alone in the bunk, and everything came rushing back into consciousness like a bucket of water about to hit you in the face. It was what had turned her off to breakfast in the first place.

Soon enough it passed.

She started by brushing all the glass off of the consoles, then methodically sweeping from one side of the room to the other. Here and there a dinosaur, picked out of the debris, placed with care back where it belonged.

T-rex though. Somehow through it all, T-rex hadn't moved.

 _Bùkěsīyì._

She scooted the bucket across the floor with her foot, finally turning to look, to really look, at the pilot's chair. Not just passing glances in the corner of her eye. The Feds had done a decent first pass, taken care of the lion's share – there wasn't anything too grisly about what she saw. But it was not pristine. It was not immaculately clean. They had not erased all evidence of what had happened there. And for that Zoe was grateful. It was stained. It was punctured. Needle and thread. Somewhere on this boat she knew she'd seen a needle and thread.

If that chair had looked like nothing at all had happened she would have been livid.

For some reason _this_ is what she had needed to see. His chair.

She laid into it with the warm soapy water. She let her thoughts rewind and replay, skipping forward and back, without trying to govern them. Mal pulling her down to the floor in the nick of time. Wash at the helm, pulling Serenity out of freefall. That moment of silence – again that moment of silence just before…Signing the forms that would result in the delivery of a tidy little metal box. Answering the form-taker's question with simply _bù zháo._

 _If you would like to see him…?_

There was no need. She _had_ seen him. She may have been frantic, in a panic that had threatened her hold on reality– but she had seen plenty. Enough to stay crystal clear in memory forever after. There was no need to go sit with an empty vessel. It wasn't _him_ anymore.

Furthermore she didn't like the connotation – to see him, see him off, say your goodbyes… There hadn't been any warning, any time to say goodbye to each other. And she didn't want to say it now. Least of all say it in some soulless Alliance infirmary, while some purple-belly waited impatiently outside.

No, she and the crew would have a send-off in their own way. Together they would have their ritual and their rock monuments. And then later, alone, she would mark the occasion – not of goodbye exactly, but of letting go. Not of shutting him out of mind, but of going on without him. She had the makings of a plan as to what to do with the little metal box when it came.

Movement at the bottom of the stairs got Zoe's attention, interrupting her meandering train of thought. It was time for a change of water anyhow. She rallied, summoning up the energy for interacting with other people, for talking. It required of her a different kind of energy than the physicality of chiseling, sweeping, and scrubbing. She dropped the cloth back into the water as River entered, nonchalant and carrying a bag of tools, followed by Kaylee, arms full of gear and much more apprehensive.

Kaylee set her armload down next to the co-pilot's console. River added to Kaylee's pile and started to slowly run her hand along the console, her eyes darting over the controls, her mouth moving as she silently spoke to herself. Zoe wiped her hands with a towel and picked up the bucket, careful not to cause the dirty, sudsy water to slosh about.

She watched Kaylee do a brief assessment comparing the pilot and co-pilot's chairs. The difference between them now was plain to see.

"May as well do th'other one now. I'd bet my share of our next job they ain't seen soap nor water since the day this boat left the shipyard," said Zoe, straight-faced.

She saw Kaylee's eyes alight on the bucket for a brief moment. Zoe knew the dirty water had a reddish tint to it.

The mechanic swallowed, "I'll side with you on that one."

 _Wēn róu, wēn hòu mèi mei, I know all this is hard for you._

Zoe smiled at her just a little, "Just gonna go change this water." She paused, "I was thinkin'…We finished the monuments this morning. Doctor's supposed to be out today?"

"I think so," Kaylee nodded.

"Liáng hǎo. We can all go."

 _Click, click, click._

The two women turned their heads at the familiar sound of three switches being flicked. River was sitting in Wash's chair. Her hand floated down from the switches above, her mouth slightly open in fascination as she looked over the now lit-up controls.

"Uh, River, maybe you should'n…" Kaylee bit her lip and looked from Zoe to River and back again.

Zoe shifted her grip on the bucket, "…It's alright. She's not doin' any harm."

River swiveled the chair in their direction, picking up Wash's plastic T-rex on the way, "She's walking on eggshells."

River certainly wasn't talking about herself. Kaylee was looking at the floor. Zoe knew everyone was being cautious around her these past few days. And while she appreciated being given space, she wasn't going to fly into fits just because someone did or said something to remind her of Wash. Being reminded of Wash was a constant, a given.

"There's no need," Zoe said, glancing at Kaylee. She set down the bucket and crossed to River, holding out her hand for the dinosaur, "But why don't we just leave these be."

River met Zoe's steady gaze and placed the T-rex into her waiting hand, willingly with no resistance. Zoe put it back on the console and offered River the towel, "Sit on this if you're gonna sit. Chair still needs to dry."

River took the towel and stood up suddenly, leaping into a run towards the portal.

"Simon!" they heard her exclaim as she ran past the crew bunks. Kaylee's eyes widened a little and she started after River, not quite running but not quite walking either.

Zoe let out a quiet sigh, a release after the effort of being sociable. As she switched out the old water for new, she mulled over her feelings at River sitting in Wash's chair. Irreverent, but from the girl who so often pushed the limits of social norms, Zoe knew River hadn't meant any disrespect. She believed what she'd said – there was no harm done. River was clearly curious about ships. Zoe was vaguely aware of Inara giving River a lesson on the shuttle's ignition sequence. _Was that just yesterday?_ Seems she was cultivating an interest in flying.

No one had sat there since it happened. Was there some amount of time, some arbitrary amount of time that should pass before someone sat there again? She dismissed these thoughts as irrational. Others would sit there. It wasn't _Wash's_ chair. But it _had_ been Wash's place. It was imbued with him, with the echo of him, and she would have the dinosaurs stay there as a testament.

It was soon into her scrubbing of the co-pilot's chair that River returned. With hardly a sound she carefully laid the towel over the damp seat cushion and sat down again. She sat on her hands, intently looking at every switch and button, eyes bright like a child scanning the jars in the candy store, wanting and waiting to touch.

"River…" Zoe started. She had forged an idea, but she wasn't sure she could pull it off on her own. At the same time, she didn't want everybody and their sister involved. Just the sister who was a master at physics. If she could figure a way to enlist River's help without letting her fully in on the plan…It was a plan for Zoe alone.

River looked up from the console, silent, expectant. Zoe didn't like to read too much into the expression on her face, but it seemed River was humoring her, waiting to hear the words out loud that she'd already "heard" forming in Zoe's mind. That she was a reader was no longer speculation. But knowing that didn't just make for smooth sailing. It would take some getting used to the notion that what you generally considered to be the most private things belonging to you – your thoughts – were not as private as you once fancied.

"She understands," River said, all graciousness, "No one else is invited."

Zoe let her cleaning cloth drape over the rim of the bucket.

"Hypothetically speaking…" she began, "…I was thinkin' it ain't unfeasible, if you worked the math, to make a shooting star appear at a particular time and place…"

River drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them, "Start with time and place, work it backwards. Initial mass, atmospheric density, aerodynamic drag, gravitational forces. The solar X-ray flux and particle precipitation from the magnetosphere…current space weather conditions…Gives you velocity, angle of entry, orbital mechanics…Hypothetically speaking."

Zoe folded her arms, not in annoyance but in satisfaction.

"You want me to create a controlled EDL failure," River said matter-of-factly.

"I don't know what that means but I'm thinking yes."

"The overshoot trajectory has the highest thermal load. I can make a long tail. Many seconds," she let one foot down again, swiveling the chair back and forth with the strength of just her toes.

Zoe turned away, gathering up the bucket, an almost-smile flirting with the corner of her mouth. She might've figured out the calculations on her own eventually, but asking River was so much faster. And much more elegant. River had gotten the idea. It would be the loveliest and longest meteor Zoe would ever lay eyes on.

River suddenly stood, looking down the stairs as if someone was about to enter. Zoe's face instantly wiped itself of any expression, steeling again.

"They're all going there," River said softly.

Zoe relaxed. There was not here. "Where?"

"Simon was impressed with how clean it was," River smiled.

The infirmary. "You go on ahead," Zoe told her. They would all be gathered together once today. She wasn't sure she was up for twice.

River looked right at her. It was a look that Zoe was becoming more familiar with lately. The one that signaled she'd picked up on some thought or feeling strong enough to really get her attention. Zoe's inclination was to look away but she held her ground, on guard. She was used to defending herself against physical attacks. But unsolicited insights that made you confront your own innermost self were a different kind of attack. River didn't intend to be confrontational. She just didn't have any boundaries.

Zoe was surprised at what followed. River spoke with unusual coherence. And rather than speaking of Zoe, she spoke of herself.

"My brother told me something, a technique," she started, "He tries everything he knows, and it still isn't working, so he does his research. Psychology, psychiatry, therapy, zá qī zá bā. He wants her to try this when the…when it gets too overwhelming. The memories, mine and not mine. Develop a positive cognition to associate with the negative one, that you desire in its' place. To interrupt, to re-frame."

Zoe, genuinely curious and definitely cautious, rested the bucket on the co-pilot's armrest.

"Didn't think it worked, 'til now," River looked down the stairs again, as if she could see right through the decking, the frame of the ship, right into the infirmary where their crew was convening, "The memory is still dark. But not completely. There is light in it. The day we landed here. The Reavers were coming and coming. It would have been easy to give up, to think there was no hope. But still they didn't give up hope. Still they were together, taking care of each other. Gū zhǎng nán míng…"

Zoe swallowed, fighting to quell the lump in her throat.

 _Sneaky, that one._

River made a judicious exit, leaving the psychology bomb she'd dropped by disguising it as her own 'else it never would have flown.

It did its' work though, Zoe had to admit. She found that, at least in this moment, she wanted to give in to the urge to join the others in the infirmary. In this moment she allowed her feet to carry her, following after River, grateful that she was not alone.

* * *

Translations:

Bùkěsīyì – inconceivable

Bù zháo – no need

Wēn róu – gentle/tender

Wēn hòu – gentle/good-natured, warm

Mèi mei – little sister

Liáng hǎo – good, fine

Zá qī zá bā – a bit of everything

Gū zhǎng nán míng – (idiom) "It's hard to clap with only one hand" - It's difficult to achieve anything without support.


	5. Chapter 5

Translations:

Xīng liú diàn jī - meteor shower and violent thunderclaps (idiom meaning portentous signs, ill-omened)

Jīn bu zhù – can't help it, can't bear it

Dǒng ma? – Understand?

Mò qì – secret agreement, to understand without being stated

* * *

五 **Wǔ** : **Xīng liú diàn jī**

* * *

There were no words. Written words, yes. Private thoughts, private fears and prayers, written and affixed to the firework, to be sent up and burned away, released, given up to the 'verse.

The explosion had been quite the show. It ought to have been if the packaging were any indication. Not to mention the price they were fetching on the black market. "Xīng Liú Diàn Jī" it said. Zoe wondered offhand if the manufacturers knew the idiomatic meaning or had just been capitalizing on the literal. True to it's name, the initial blast then led to a display like so many shooting stars, timed to go off in a staggered series, each a color more brilliant than the last, each with its' own thunderous boom. Plenty loud enough to ward off any evil spirits, if you gave any credence to that kind of thing. Or if not, plenty loud enough to drown out whatever was going on in your mind, even for just a minute.

There were no words. They stood, lingering in silence, clustered together in a kind of constellation, drawn and held together by their own collective force of gravity, and by the gravity of their situation. The words would come. Zoe knew. But for now they were just a constellation of seven against a hazy purple sky.

Slowly they drifted off. Jayne first. Kaylee and Simon. Inara, then Mal, then River. Back to the shuttle to give her a moment alone.

The wind buffeted against and around her - her dress, flicking at her calves; her hair, swirling, lashing at her face – around the stones. She narrowed her eyes against the onslaught of fine grains of sand picked up by the increasing gusts, registering each tiny sting. Her mind wandered, considering each individual grain of sand, over years, over eons, that would contribute to the weathering the stones. Zoe stood, as still and silent as one of them, imagining herself one of them. Perhaps eventually the sand would wear them down into sand themselves, to be scattered across the moon or reformed into something else in the unfathomable future.

Suddenly the vastness of time and of space made her queasy. A particularly strong blast of wind caused her to sway and she felt she was spinning into infinity. Three days. Had it only been three days without Wash? Her sense of time was distorted. She tried to recall a time, before all of this, before the chain of events was set in motion, when she had felt truly at ease. A month ago? Six weeks ago? When she had looked at Wash and felt they had all the time in the 'verse.

She adjusted her stance, pulling herself back from the event horizon, away from that point of no return after which you know you will be sick. She fought against other things too – the lump in her throat, the tightness in her chest. She gave in to the sway.

 _Breathe. Just breathe._

She thought of trees, resilient in the wind. She thought of kelp, yielding to the push and pull of waves. And after a few breaths she thought of the crew, waiting for her in the shuttle.

Back at Serenity, the docking clamps clacked into place and the little vessel settled itself into its' niche. Normally this set of sounds and sensations would have been a balm of comfort. Normally the bustle of folks arriving home would have been a familiar pleasure. But something had started to take root in Zoe's mind and now that the seed was planted she could think of nothing else. She got out of there as quickly as she could.

"Chow in ten?" Mal said loudly enough for everyone to hear as they were disembarking.

"Five," Kaylee replied, "Just gotta heat it up."

Zoe was already most of the way across the catwalk when she turned at the sound of Kaylee's boots on metal stairs.

Kaylee opened her mouth to start but Zoe cut her off, "Five minutes. I heard. Don't wait for me. I'm not hungry." She continued on her way.

"We'll save some for ya. For later," Kaylee called, "It'll be there if ya want…"

Zoe spared a bit of mental space in which she appreciated the mechanic's kindness and concern. She should eat, she knew she should eat. But to sit with all of them in the galley right now would be too much to bear.

She didn't much want to be in her bunk alone either, but that's where she went. She sat on the bed. Stood back up. Sat down again.

 _Gorammit, Wash._

It had been, what? Six weeks ago now since they'd been to Persephone to resupply? Of the passage of time she couldn't be sure. Since then they'd all become rather busy, pulling off quick jobs here and there as lily pads on the way to Lilac for the next big one - the vault heist for Fanty and Mingo. The vault already seemed like ages ago. And an age before that they'd set down on Persephone to prepare for the long burns ahead.

 _The golden hour cast its warm glow over the docked ships - ramps down, cargo bays open, members of their crews partaking in a modern spaceport version of the age-old pastime of porch-sittin'. Wash pulls out a pair of folding chairs and they sit at the bottom of Serenity's ramp, soaking in all the goings-on. The smell of real meat grilling wafts from a couple of ships over. They hear the sounds of Mal and Jayne playing horseshoes against a couple of gents from the ship across the way. And at the ship next door, a domestic scene peacefully unfolds amid the hustle and bustle of port traffic._

 _By simply observing them it is easy for Zoe to deduce something about the lives and relationships of the small passel of folks – two youngsters of about the same age kick around a soccer ball, taking advantage of actual dirt to play on, their adults looking on from the cargo bay. Engaged in lively conversation, those two women must be their mothers, one of them bouncing a younger baby sibling on her lap. More chairs are added in a semi-circle, the rest of the crew joins them, the food is brought out. The baby is passed from uncle to uncle, auntie to auntie, ending up with its father. A man descends the ramp to gather up the children who then entice him to play. Just a few minutes more? The ball, in an errant pass, rolls towards Serenity…_

 _Wash rises to stop it and kick it back over._

 _"Thanks," the man calls and he waves._

 _"This is just downright wholesome," Wash says, sinking down into his chair with a polite wave back at the man._

 _They sit in companionable silence but Zoe can tell something is on the tip of Wash's mind and on the tip of his tongue. She waits. He stalls, scuffing his shoe in the dust._

 _"I don't know if one day you wake up and say 'I'm ready'. But if it were to happen, then you'd just have to 'be' ready…"_

 _"Talk plainly, husband," she eyed him sidelong, "Are you sayin' what I think you're sayin'?"_

 _"Well," he turned to her, "What if we didn't 'try to' so much as what if we stopped trying 'not to'?"_

She waited until the ship was quiet; the galley dark and everyone asleep in their bunks. Kaylee had left her a bowl, kept in the cooler and covered with a cloth. She went through the motions of eating because she knew she must. But she hardly tasted it. It would be a long night with short stints of fitful sleep. A long night of waiting for morning to come. Of waiting for Simon to wake so he could confirm what she already knew deep in her bones.

* * *

As soon as Serenity came to life again she made her way down towards the infirmary, encountering Kaylee and River at the bottom of the stairs.

"Mornin' Zoe," Kaylee said brightly.

"Mornin'," Zoe's reply was automatic. She made no eye contact as she brusquely passed. She had seen Simon and she was on a mission.

She swerved to avoid River who was standing stock-still in the middle of the passage and staring at Zoe with her head tilted to the side, a curious expression on her face.

"Doctor, you got a minute?" Zoe called, eyeing River with suspicion.

"Of course," Simon nodded toward the infirmary.

"You…" River started.

Zoe turned on her sharply, suspicion shifting to fierce certainty – the girl had read her mind. River immediately clamped her mouth shut, swallowing whatever it was she was about to say.

"River, sweetie," Zoe said, her placid tone barely concealing something more ominous beneath, "Sometimes people don't want their thoughts bein' said aloud by someone else. Actually, _most_ times."

"Jīn bu zhù," River countered.

"River…" Simon said her name in that brotherly way of giving a warning.

"I know it's not your fault you hear 'em, but if you put your mind to it to keep 'em to yourself…" Zoe answered River, "Just do me a favor, dǒng ma?"

River acquiesced, "Mò qì."

Zoe held her gaze another moment just to be sure. River would keep her word; Zoe could see it in her eyes. So would Simon. Doctor-patient confidentiality and all that. It would remain Zoe's secret to do with what she would. But it wasn't real. Not quite yet. She needed to hear it out loud.

With a hesitant smile Kaylee touched River's arm, breaking the trance, "C'mon, let's go get ready."

Zoe wasted no time entering the infirmary, scanning the windows for any other approaching crew. _Strange design_ , she thought, _very exposed_. Simon seemed to pick up on her unease. The door was rarely ever shut but he shut it now, affording them more privacy.

 _May as well cut right to the chase._

She rolled up her sleeve and offered him her upturned arm.

"Need you to draw some blood," she said.

Simon didn't skip a beat. If he was taken aback he didn't let on. He gathered what he needed and was at her side in moments. Moving with fluid efficiency he tied an elastic band around her upper arm, found a vein and cleansed the site with alcohol. She tried to absorb some of his calm; to focus on his practiced hands as he gently inserted the needle. She watched the tiny vial fill with brilliant red, felt the elastic release and Simon press a piece of gauze into the crook of her arm.

She looked at him then.

"What am I testing for?" he quietly asked.

"Pregnancy," she answered.

* * *

Translations:

Xīng liú diàn jī - meteor shower and violent thunderclaps (idiom meaning portentous signs, ill-omened)

Jīn bu zhù – can't help it, can't bear it

Dǒng ma? – Understand?

Mò qì – secret agreement, to understand without being stated


	6. Chapter 6

Translations:

Wú cháng - impermanence (Sanskrit: anicca), ghost taking away the soul after death, to pass away

Ē mí tuó Fó - merciful Buddha

Wèi shén me - why? for what reason?

Jū ān sī wēi - to think of danger in times of safety, to be vigilant in peacetime (idiom)

xiǎo mèi - little sister, girl

Mò qì – secret agreement, to understand without being stated

tài xū - the universe, great emptiness, the void, heaven

* * *

六 **Liù: Wú cháng**

 _Ē mí tuó Fó,_ _wèi shén me? Why now?_

Zoe leaned against the edge of the pilot's console, staring out the empty window frame. She closed her eyes for a moment, shutting out the sun's glare, and wiped her face to dry the tracks of tears that had become chilled by the crisp morning breeze.

 _"Six weeks," Simon had said, "Give or take a few days."_

 _She heard the doctor's remarks as if from underwater, heard herself respond when prompted. Yes, she would come to see him again for a full exam and consultation. Yes, soon. Yes, she would be sure to eat. Yes, a small amount of food taken more often would help to combat nausea._

 _"It'll likely take a bit of time to ferret out the proper prenatal vitamins out here in the Rim, but in the meantime…that is, I can piece together something in the meantime if you'd like, whatever you decide to do."_

 _Zoe raised her head to look at him, suddenly very present and very fiercely aware that she had already made her decision._

She felt a new tug, on a new heartstring – one that rang with a different tenor than the threads of Serenity's family anchoring her from the void of emptiness and grief. This new thread shone with a light she'd never experienced before. She wanted to bask in that light, to rejoice in it. But how could she? When Wash wasn't there to experience it with her? When he would never know their child? When their child would never know Wash? How could such light and such darkness exist at the same time?

Resuming her forward stare, Zoe allowed the arrival of an Alliance cargo vessel to distract her, watching its' bay door lower to reveal the cranes that would hoist Serenity's engine into place, remove that wretched canon from the hull. She reeled her mind in to focus on the immediate future. Soon, Serenity would be space-worthy. They would move on from this place. They would look for work, test the waters, navigate the aftermath of the broadwave, keep flying. All she wanted was to keep flying. Too much sitting still was just that – too much. And yet, it was an island in a stormy sea. It was a time-out in a game of cat and mouse. To leave here…

She did not trust the Alliance, even a little bit. This truce they had going – who knew how long it would last, or what they were up to behind the scenes. Zoe knew the Captain had Kaylee on the lookout for trackers, bugs, sabotaged parts and other such purple-bellied trickery. Still.

Jū ān sī wēi. They needed to be vigilant. To protect each other. Zoe felt it acutely, now more than ever. Especially now that she had someone new to protect.

 _I'm not sure now is the best time to bring a tiny little helpless person into our lives..._

Wash's words roiled around the edges of her resolve. Her answer was the same now as it had been then. She wanted to meet that person, come what may. And she hoped the crew would too. She was about to change all of their lives, not just her own, she realized. A couple of them would take more winning over than others, but she had a feeling they'd come around. Jayne didn't worry her, though he'd make a fuss. She could handle Jayne. Mal…Mal might just as easily take it in stride as he might pitch a chicken-fit. But he would stand by her either way.

A small sound interrupted her reverie and she turned. Kaylee stood with welding hoses coiled over her shoulder, apprehensively lingering just inside the bridge.

"Mornin'," she said, though her normal cheerful tone came across a bit forced. Kaylee's face betrayed her – her emotions played over her features plain for anyone to see. She was clearly trying not to look at the pilot's seat, not to bring Wash to mind. But it was unavoidable. Especially in here.

"Mornin'," Zoe replied and rose from the console.

"The windows are here," Kaylee stated simply. She didn't need to elaborate for Zoe. It was more than clear from the equipment she'd brought and the banged up state of the frames what needed to be done. And Zoe was a fair hand at welding - she'd come here this morning for that purpose.

Zoe reached out for the coil. She didn't need to elaborate for Kaylee. She would take this one.

Kaylee set down the other gear she'd brought – torch, toolbox, jacket, and goggles – and started to back away, "I'll jus' go get the oxy-acetylene tanks, have 'em sent up on the cherry picker."

Zoe caught her just as she reached the door, "Kaylee."

The mechanic stopped.

Zoe raised her eyes to meet Kaylee's, her brow furrowed, "Thanks."

"Sure, Zoe. Thanks for doin' this. We could be outta here soon as tomorrow if we…" Kaylee tapered off. She looked pained, as though she regretted her words.

Zoe continued to look at her, her gaze softened. She hoped Kaylee understood. She wasn't just thanking her for bringing up the welding equipment. She was thanking her for leaving her be; for taking no offense that she had been keeping her distance from the rest of the crew. Zoe'd been essentially MIA at meal times. She hardly spoke… She knew Kaylee was only concerned for her. She had a sudden premonition – what Kaylee's reaction would be when Zoe told her the news. She would express outwardly the happiness that Zoe could not. Not yet. Not just yet.

"Tomorrow? That's good. Best not stay here any longer than we have to," Zoe set down the coil of hoses. She sighed. "Things are changin'…" She added that last part more for herself than for Kaylee. But then she continued, "So, you and the Doc?"

Kaylee smiled and looked at her boots, "Yeah."

"He get any better at talkin'?"

Kaylee giggled. Zoe's eye twinkled just a bit, amused and affectionate. Simon better watch his step. Kaywinnet was very dear. And she had a whole passel of big sisters and brothers looking out for her.

"Good," Zoe said with finality, turning her attention to the welding tools and the task at hand. The sooner she finished, the sooner she could get to her other goal for the day – if they were leaving tomorrow, then today it would have to be – her shooting star.

* * *

Zoe cross-checked the shuttle's controls with River's specifications one last time before fitting her suit's helmet into place. She'd taken the shuttle, and the suit, right out from under everyone's noses. They were all so busy with their own tasks, no one had seemed to notice. Only River knew what she was up to.

Zoe'd found her in the galley, arranging the individual segments of a mandarin orange into a kind of mandala on the table, radiating outward from a centerpiece composed of a tripod of forks suspending the peel which, by the by, had been removed as one continuous spiral. Zoe raised an eyebrow at the whole scene and grabbed an orange for herself, but on second thought realized she was not surprised.

River didn't look up until she had finished a symmetrical design.

"What happens when you start to eat it?" Zoe teased dryly.

"All temporal objects are in a continuous change of condition, subject to decay and destruction," River stated solemnly and deliberately touched the top of the delicately balanced fork sculpture. It collapsed with a clang onto the table.

"Wú cháng," she picked up an orange segment and studied it closely.

Zoe finished the last of her own orange with a slightly vexed sigh. A Buddhist lesson in impermanence was not what she'd come for, although it was not lost on her that what she was about to do was essentially a demonstration of the same. Hence the vexation. Maybe it was it just coincidence or maybe River was just a little too prescient for comfort at times.

"So, xiǎo mèi," Zoe pulled a display pad out of her vest and set it on the table next to the ruined mandala. She had loaded it with every bit of data she thought River might possibly need to make her calculations - details on every variable of the little moon and its' star, the "weather" in this solar system up-to-date as of a few minutes ago, and the dimensions and weight of a certain small, metal box.

River unceremoniously pushed oranges and forks out of her way to make a space for the pad in front of her.

"Nineteen hundred and thirty hours, on the mountaintop," Zoe said, knowing River would take her meaning.

Indeed, River at once bent her head over the pad, a flurry of tapping fingers interspersed with fleeting pauses during which she closed her eyes and looked as though she were reading something on the inside of her eyelids. After a brief time she stopped, sliding the device toward Zoe.

"Thank you," Zoe tucked it back into her vest.

"Mò qì," River flashed a shy smile, averting her eyes, her hair falling across her face – a glimpse of her sweet-natured side; perhaps a glimpse into an earlier iteration of her personality, Zoe reckoned, peeking its' way out.

"It'll be shiny," River added.

"What will, mèi mei?" Simon stepped into the galley from the aft corridor and took in its' occupants as well as the mess on the table, "River, what in the tài xū happened to your orange?"

Zoe took this as her cue to exit. Simon was sufficiently distracted by his sister that she slipped away before he had a chance to have any words with her, doctorly or otherwise.

Her plan was thus – take the shuttle into position according to River's specs, put on a suit and let the box go from the airlock, go down to the monuments and wait. She could've just put the box in the airlock and let it out along with the oxygen, but there was something too impersonal about that. She wanted to hold it; release it herself. There were several seconds, after she loosed her grip, when she could've retrieved it. It hung there in zero gravity, slowly spinning away from her, reacting to the ever so slight force imparted by her fingers when they let it go. Zoe took one last look at the unmarked, nondescript brushed bronze box, floating against the background of the black – all that physically remained of Hoban Washburne – and closed the airlock.

Back on the surface of the moon, sunset was in full swing. Zoe watched Wash's capture, a capture she had taken, look up and smile at the camera, at her, over and over, cycling on repeat. The world was bathed in lavender, then indigo, a chill settling over the mountaintop; darkness fell. She checked the time, raised her eyes to the sky beyond the cairns.

It started faintly, a gold glimmer against a blue-black backdrop, steadily brighter, brighter, heated into brilliant incandescence – a fireball, shedding glowing sparks and trailing behind it a magnificent tail, arcing across the sky. It lasted so long that Zoe had to turn her head to keep on watching it. And then it was over. At last it burnt out with a final blinding flash and show of sparks, its' tail persisting until it, too, fizzled away to nothing.

Still, its' ephemeral light lingered, a ghost image of itself overexposed onto her retinas, fading, waning 'til she could see it no more.

Done.

Gone.

* * *

Translations:

Wú cháng - impermanence (Sanskrit: anicca), ghost taking away the soul after death, to pass away

Ē mí tuó Fó - merciful Buddha

Wèi shén me - why? for what reason?

Jū ān sī wēi - to think of danger in times of safety, to be vigilant in peacetime (idiom)

xiǎo mèi - little sister, girl

Mò qì – secret agreement, to understand without being stated

tài xū - the universe, great emptiness, the void, heaven


End file.
